Gorlan's Ranger
by Fawnfire
Summary: I can see now that if I had died that night I would have died without knowing what it means to be a Ranger, and this Kingdom would have lived on never knowing what it means to be Gorlan's Ranger.
1. The First Taste of A Story Untold

This is just an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for awhile. I was wondering what happened to the Ranger of Gorlan, and all you have to do is read on to find out...

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_The wind sings overhead, tousling the coarse grass underfoot as I walk through this lonely place._

_The only thing that's left of it is the rubble._

_It's a constant reminder to me, of how I was meant to protect this place._

_Instead I watched it fall before my eyes._

_But I have to keep going._

_So I walk, thinking of what this used to be. _

_The spires and buttresses of moon washed blue have crumbled._

_Reduced to toppled and blackened masonry._

_All in ruins, this once prideful place. Just ruins._

_But these are my ruins, and I've sworn to protect this place._

_So I will, and I'll do it by getting vengeance on the man responsible._

_I am the Ranger of Gorlan._

_And this is my story…_

_My confession…_

_And my legacy._

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_**Please read and review, let me know if this is good and if I should roll with it. (I probably will anyways) I like the idea a lot myself. The next chapter will start the actual story. **


	2. Night of the Kalkara

**First official chapter of the story! =) I'm so sorry this took me forever and a day, I had a very devastating case of Writer's Block, and I think I'm finally beginning to get over it.**

******So... This is it, Gorlan's Ranger. It's in first person, almost as if it's being told by the Ranger as it happened, and it sort of stops off so he can give you a few thoughts and what not. This chapter isn't very informative of the Ranger himself. (Yup, it's a dude.) Next chapter you really get to meet him. I promise. =)**

******Please read and review! =) It's greatly appreciated!**

******This kind of cuts in at the end of Book 1, and it'll pick up from there. **

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_**Night of the Kalkara **_

Gorlan is dark, just a field of coarse grass littered with the shapeless mounds of shadows that was once a castle matched by no other. The moon, which usually sits high in the deep patch of blue sky streaked with tiny pin points of light, is absent. It's a new sight, a breath taking one. Then I tear my gaze away from the sky and look at the tenebrous ruins again.

Definitely still breath taking, but with a different touch this time, more like breath _stealing_. It makes the animosity of the moment almost fitting.

Here I am, standing in the heart of fallen Castle Gorlan. I breathe in the wind and taste the cold, feeling it tremble in my chest. It feels good, until Bracken, my ever faithful mount, snorts in derision. This was his home too, and I pat his neck in comfort. It hurts, I know. But then he stamps his hooves and tosses his head at me. Something is wrong.

And then I hear it.

A deep and resonating cry splits the silence of the night and urges Bracken to edge a little closer to me with a fearful little whiff. That's not what surprises me though, the gelding has always been a bit of a coward. We both have.

It's the sound of hoof beats that follows that gets my mind working, but the deep throated hum of the long bow I wear across my back coming from somewhere among the rubble is what gets me moving.

For the first time in my life I swing astride Bracken with that familiar churning in my stomach, but this time I don't turn away from the source of distress. This time I urge Bracken around and face the sound of the distress.

This time I ride towards it.

What a mistake.

* * *

The deep rutted tracks of the beasts were easy to find, and from the torn and ripped fabric of the earth it was clear that whatever had passed through the ruins wasn't human. But I think I'd already gathered that from the cry of the beasts earlier.

I may never have found them in the dark if it wasn't for the fire. It was easy to spot, the orange flickering light of it. And even if I hadn't spotted the flames the horrible guttural wailing of something arcane would have drawn me there anyways. I dismounted and left Bracken behind a thick wall of masonry, he'd be alright there for the time being.

Wreathed in my cloak with an arrow knocked to my bow in shaky hands I crept forward. Silent movement had always come easy to me, and it happened to be the one skill of a Ranger that I felt I knew inside and out. It's not that I'm horrible with the bow, or that I can't handle a saxe knife and dagger, or follow a track. It's that I've never been brave enough to put any of that to good use. Unseen movement was something else among those things, it's what helped me get out of being what I should have been all along.

If only I'd been the Ranger everyone else thought I was. _If only… _I could do this all day, naming all the if's and pondering over all the things that could have turned out the right way. But I won't, because somewhere out there among all the crumbled rock is someone in need. Someone who needs help. Someone who needs a Ranger.

Too bad they've got me instead.

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I think it's safe to assume that everyone has had a moment in their life where they feel a very real and sudden burst of fear. A cold stab of trepidation, shock and horror, all in one convenient little spike that's driven straight through your heart. It ripples outward to the rest of you, jolting you into the nightmarish hell most commonly called reality.

Fear's like a monster, and for as long as I've lived it's waited for me around every darkened corner or down every rutted path I've ever walked, and here it was again.

This time it stood in front of me as a grotesque beast of bearish origins. Covered from head to toe in coarse hair matted over with some sort of thick oily substance that looked revolting even from where I stood, almost thirty feet away.

A second beast, a twin of the first, moves out from behind a wall of still standing masonry, and my heart tries to sing a song with it's erratic beating. Both of them are there, standing outlined in the firelight with their gleaming red eyes trained on a little figure that's just a smudge in the dark to my eyes.

This isn't the first time I've ever encountered the Kalkara, with their long clawed paws and those malicious and controlling eyes. But it's just like last time. It's like someone just slammed a knife into my throat. And I can't move anymore. I can't breathe anymore. I can only stand there and watch.

_Oh God, oh God please, let this all just be a horridly horrific nightmare that I'll jolt out of any second now! _

But it's not.

I'm still there when I open my eyes. Transfixed to the spot by some unseen force, and the Kalkara's aren't even looking at me.

Again the familiar melody of a long bow at work is what gets me moving. I can't explain why that sound does that to me. It's the equivalent of someone holding me under water and waiting until I choke, until the life slowly starts to leave me. Then they're dragging me out of the water and breathing life back into me again. It's a wake up call like no other.

Sometimes I just wish they'd let me drown, but my murderous savior would never be so kind.

Again the long bow sings, a repetitive rhythm ringing in my head now. A quick glance over at the Kalkara reveals the source. That dark smudge of a man was holding his own against the Kalkara as they lumbered towards him, giving the fire a wide berth.

Grudgingly, I start down the slope, flanking the Kalkara from a safe distance. I raise my long bow and level it with the beast with the swiftness only a Ranger could achieve.

With sweaty palms I aim for the Kalkara closest to me. It still has it's back to me, and if the thing had a nose it wouldn't catch the scent of dinner on the wind since it was blowing towards me. A light, chilly breeze to add to my already unsteady hands.

My first shot flies wide, missing both of the hulking Kalkara and landing in the monstrous blaze to the right of them.

"Dammit," I mumble under my breath, pulling another arrow from my quiver and attempting another shot. I'm proud to say that this went a little better, and the arrow caught the rear Kalkara in the shoulder.

With a triumphant little smile I nock another arrow to the string and let it fly. The beast let's out a rancid wail of anger and pain just before it turns on me.

"Oh no…"

The nearest Kalkara decides it can take me on it's lonesome, and it charges me suddenly. Lucky for me it's brethren stays behind, intent on the other man of prey at the moment. I think up a meek prayer for him and scramble back up the bedrock towards a wall of masonry, thinking I can hide there.

I had a fervent hope that maybe the Kalkara would be a slow sluggish beast, but it wasn't. It's gaining on me now, I can hear it, rushing closer now. I can almost feel it's breath hot against my neck. Each step seems to be ticking off how much time I have left before the Kalkara brutally murders me.

I can feel my heart now, a solid lump in the back of my throat. A constant reminder of the fear that's eating away at me inside. I sling my long bow over one shoulder, hoping the string keeps it on my back as I climb. I must look like a hysterical spider of some sort, the way I lunge up that masonry wall and clamber to the top of the rough stone.

At the top I turn and look down, and I feel my stomach drop right into the soles of my boots. I clamp my eyes shut at the last moment, clenching them shut to the point of pain. For the hundredth time I wish I could be somewhere else, anywhere else in this God forsaken world would be fine with me. Really, an icy tundra or a broiling desert barren of all life would be _spectacular _compared to this.

Laying across the narrow top of the wall isn't comfortable, but forcing my limbs to move is too much effort. Fear has me frozen to the spot, and to the spot I swear I will stay until the beast lumbers off.

I don't have to wait long.

A loud, earsplitting wail of agony rings out from somewhere quite far away. The dreadful sound is enough to make me clench my rattling teeth together and attempt to clamp my hands over my ears. I almost lose my place on the wall as a result, but it's worth it.

The Kalkara below me lets out an answering cry, and like music to my ears it's receding steps follow close behind.

Carefully, I sneak a peek at the beast, watching it's broad back move away from me. My throbbing heart starts to settle again, and my breath comes a little easier. I'm still trembling, and it's a struggle to get down from the wall without falling and breaking something. But I do get down eventually, and stagger away with what's left of my dignity just before I'm violently sick.

Leaning against the rough masonry to stay upright is all I can do to keep from keeling over. I have to force myself to breathe regularly, and I can't help but wonder why it's such a struggle for me. Why in the world am I such a blasted coward?

I don't spend much time dwindling on the question, saving the thoughts on it for when I can't sleep at night. That's usually when I do my most rational thinking, unlike now, when I'm so dizzy that I can't quite distinguish the ground I'm standing on from the wall I'm leaning against.

All I can do is wait for that sickening wave of nausea to pass. Eventually it does, just as the sound of hoof beats' echoes from a ways off. Turning a keen ear towards the sound, I listen.

The hoof beats are there, distant, but definitely real. They aren't just a figment of my imagination. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, though.

Unfortunately, as much as I'd like to curl up in a feeble position and lay there, I have to find out what else is hiding among this tumble of masonry on this dreadful night.

_I have to save them_, I tell myself. _I have to save them all, if it's the last thing I do._

All I can think is that this is what Channer would have done. That this is what he would want me to do. That this is just what I have to do for the both of us.

For Channer's memory.

For my redemption.

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**So that's it. Is this what you expected? What you didn't expect? Let me know. Review please. =) I had my doubts with this story, almost like I was taking it in the wrong direction. I have to be honest when I say that Gorlan's Ranger is not the heroic character that every Ranger seems to be, and I do intend to make him a tad bit different than most heroes. **

**I do think it'll get better, for everyone, including Gorlan's forgotten Ranger. This is, after all, his legacy. **


	3. Dying for the First Time

**This is it... Next Chapter... Please Read and Review guys, I'm not only looking for praise. If you don't like the character much, let me know.**

**Oh, and I know I said that you'd know the character's name and what not by this part of the story, but I'm chopping it up a bit and refining it. The next two Chapters will be centered around the character and how he fits into the plot of books one and two with the other characters.**

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I didn't think about it. I didn't think about anything. I just did it.

I want to say that I squared my shoulders and nocked another arrow to my bowstring and moved free of the rubble, choosing to face the Kalkara squarely, but I didn't. I did something quite different, and yet it was just as effective I think.

The other man was down there still, I could see him from a half perch on yet another pile of moon washed stone. He was backing steadily away from the Kalkara, firing off arrow after arrow into the leading beast as he retreated up the sharp rise. He was doing exceptionally well, and he might've killed the first Kalkara on his lonesome, but he was running out of room, and the Kalkara were growing tired of playing games.

Seeing as though there was little chance of the man surviving on his own, I circled around the graveyard of masonry, nothing more than a shadow flitting in and out of the firelight almost imperceptibly.

This place I once called home is now a shadowy maze, and everything around me is just another blur of darkness that I can't quite see but rather feel. I'm not sure how else to explain it other than by saying I felt my surroundings, all around me. It was instinct. Gorlan is my home, it always will be, even when it's crippled to little more than forgotten rubble.

For a brief moment I slipped behind a tall and stolid corner wall of stone, listening like a dog with ears pricked. The loud thunderous steps of the Kalkara were unmistakable. Somewhere in the back of my mind I took note that the hoof beats stopped.

With another one of the trademark wails that made my stomach twist fearfully, one of the Kalkara screamed. I don't believe it, but I can't say that I was scared just then.

No, I was numb.

I was insane.

Demented.

Possessed.

The funny thing was, I knew it. I stepped out from behind the shelter of the cornered wall, drawing my bow back with hands that quivered ever so slightly. I hear my own bow sing beneath the gentle touch stroke of nimble fingers. The movement flowed like water over rocks for me, a simple gesture I'd known for the better part of my years.

I knew the instant the string slipped from my fingertips that the shot was inexplicable perfect. There's a belief that every Ranger has that kind of accuracy all the time, but I'm confident that even Channer would've been proud of me then.

Of course, anything and everything that is good in one's life becomes tainted.

The Kalkara turned with a roar when my arrow struck it just at the base of the beast's neck. It's easy to imagine the arrow as a quill, and as it pierced the flesh of the Kalkara it drew forth an inky splash of blood that was just enough to sign my death warrant.

I'm feeling faint of heart again.

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I don't know how it happened. Even now, looking back, I still don't understand what else happened that night. Some parts are blurry, as if I'm looking through a sheet of rain at a house, I can only see the outline in shades of grey. Other parts are crystal clear, vivid even, as if that same rain has cleared and now I can see the dew soaked path and rain drenched eaves that surround the house.

What happened between my first steps away from the rough corner wall and that heart stopping encounter still puzzles me to this day. There's the adrenaline surging through my veins and the wild intensity that came with it, and the rest is just bits and pieces.

I know I fired more than one shot at the Kalkara, that much I do recall. The leader stayed on the other man, and for a moment I was sure that he looked at me. Mayhap it was just one glance in my generally direction, but it happened. He looked at me.

I'm guessing he knew the inevitable fate by then. He and I were going to die in the middle of the night, the flickering light of a massive bonfire lighting our murders. It reminded me idly of a show, thinking about it then. I was dying for the entertainment of some sick and twisted beast who wanted to play games with his dinner.

The fear got me then. Like a snake it slithered up my legs, starting at the tips of my toes, tickling my spine as it wriggled up my body, constricting around my stomach painfully.

If the Kalkara had been patient I would've been sick just then. Luckily, it wasn't and it charged me. At least the other man¾whoever he was¾wouldn't see my cowardice in that blunt way. I'm sure he saw it however in the way I turned, already lunging away from the Kalkara like a startled mouse from a hungry cat. Perhaps if I had been a mouse and the Kalkara a cat, I would've made it away.

As fate would have it no amount of scurrying would save me, but I tried anyways. With no sense of direction I ran, weaving back and forth through the endless blue and grey mounds of masonry. The Kalkara was gaining, I could feel it with every rapid beat of my heart and shriek of my soul. My legs seeded to shake under me, and every breath seemed to rattle in my chest. Just when I was sure it couldn't be worse I crested a small hill and lost my footing when the ground dropped away sharply. Rock crumbled beneath my boots as the turf gave under my weight. I might have been able to tuck and roll back to my feet in time to keep running, but the wet Earth grabbed hungrily at my feet. I fell, tumbling forward unceremoniously and hitting quite a few sharp rocks on the way down. I slid to the bottom of the rise, groaning as stones chafed against my shoulders.

The fall was a whole lot farther than I had expected, and I scrambled to my feet when I landed, clutching at a burning line of pain that erupted in my side. The drop, easily ten feet, was little more than a lengthy bound for the Kalkara. I faced it, watching it terror as it landed in front of me.

I stood ramrod straight as my mind seemed to slide away from me…

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They say that right before you die your life flashes before your eyes, and your memories cloud your last thoughts. I've even heard that if you've had a good life you die smiling. They say that it happens even when you get close to death. I've always wondered if I would die happily, with a smile forever lighting my face.

As fate would have it, I didn't smile once when the Kalkara cornered me. My life, or what I remembered of it at least, did however flash before my eyes.

It's amazing some of the things I remembered just then. For the briefest of moments I was standing at my Mother's bedside, watching her take her last breaths right before my very eyes. I could feel Channer's comforting hand on my shoulder, and I swear to you that I could hear his voice again, telling me that everything was going to be okay.

Just as quickly as the image came it was gone, and I was older now, walking to Channer's home with a bruised and bloodied face. The Eldrige boys hadn't liked the set of my nose, and so they'd broken it for me. I remember the calculating look on Channer's face when he'd finished setting my nose straight again. He'd seen that my hands were free of scrapes and scratches, and he knew that I hadn't fought back. When he'd asked me why I'd told him that I couldn't. That's when I became his apprentice. That's when I learned how to fight.

I remembered my first kiss and the first time I'd ridden Bracken, but most of all I remembered all the times that Channer had been there for me. I remember racing Channer across the open plane, my cloak whipping around me as I urged a young Bracken onward. And lastly was Channer, warm eyed and smiling, congratulating me on becoming a full fledged Ranger.

No one ever told me that in your time of dying you'd be guilt tripped by the face of the only person who may have ever truly cared for you, the same person who just happened to have died under your watch, and yet I was. Even his voice, soft and sorrowful, rang in my ears as I stood there, frozen in terror.

_I'm so sorry about everything, Channer. _

I stood rigid to the spot, every fiber of my body screaming with a shuddersome fright. That paralyzing control the Kalkara had over me was shattered when it attacked me, and for the briefest of moments I was lucid enough to realize what was happening all around me. I remember the pain of talons crushing against my side, the solid black points of the nails tearing merciless into my skin.

It felt as if the Kalkara was ripping the very life from me, dragging my soul away from my body. The very breath was ravaged from my lungs, smashed clean out of me.

_So this is what it's like to die._

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Truth be told, I did not die that night or the next, and a long seven days later I was still breathing. As fate would have it, that's how it was meant to be. A lot was riding on my survival that night, but I didn't know it then of course. Looking back now however, I can see how dying then would've made quite a difference.

I can see now that if I had died that night I would have died without knowing what it means to be a Ranger, and this Kingdom would have lived on never knowing what it means to be Gorlan's Ranger.

I guess it's a good thing I lived...

And yet, I look back on that night and the days that followed and I wish idly that I hadn't.

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**Please Read and Review, I'm curious if you still like this story, =)**


	4. To Save a Ranger's Horse

**So here it is, the official third chapter. I worked to get this one up a little sooner than the last, but with several Fics I'm currently working on, I could only type so fast. =) The good news is, I had a sudden burst of inspiration and I already have the main ideas for the next chapter nailed down. =) I also would like you to compare the title of this chapter to other book titles. A friend of mine had a good laugh at me over it. **

**Enjoy this, and don't forget to review. =)**

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My brush with death is something not always well thought of. Not many know exactly how I managed to survive the brutish attack of the Kalkara, but I'll share the secret with you, briefly.

You must've gathered by now that I am not a hero, in any way shape or form. I'm not even the slightest bit brave, or I might've escaped the fate in a different way. By now you should have come to the conclusion that I am in fact, a coward. My curt encounter and confrontation of the Kalkara was nothing more than a ruse, just a sudden moment of insanity in which I did something out of the ordinary.

My wingless flight from the beast on the other hand, was me, through and through. This is more of the reaction you could expect from me in most, if not all, circumstances.

Now that you've been properly informed of some of my impish habits I feel that I can move on to my escape. Like I said before, it's a shameful little incident, one that I recall now with quite a few down cast looks and sheepish little attempts at explanation.

I'll be blunt about this, and I'll tell it like it was that night.

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_Move._

I came around with a little start, my ears ringing with the last echo of a familiar voice. My vision was dark around the edges, and I realized I was lying on the ground, one hand pressed tight to my throbbing side. I didn't quite remember falling at all, but I knew I had to move before the Kalkara struck again. Luckily my killer turned away, letting out a call that would never be echoed in answer.

_Move!_

Channer's voice murmured in my mind once more, and between the screaming of the Kalkara and the crippling pain in my side, the whisper was the only thing that made sense to me then. I scrambled away from the beast, forcing my shaking legs to work, I dragged myself to the crumbling wall at my back and pressed myself tight into a hollow at the base of the rock.

It wasn't safe, I knew that, but it was better than standing in front of the Kalkara and stupidly awaiting death. I don't care if that would've been considered heroic, I very much preferred my place in that little crevice, even when the Kalkara turned back to me.

This time I clenched my eyes shut, baring my teeth against the cold kiss of death.

It never came.

The Kalkara's talons skipped off the mortar that leaned over me, and in my little niche it couldn't touch me. It didn't need to though. With another uproar the beast slammed it's talon clad hands against the side of the shifty wall, and a tumult of stone and masonry came crashing down on me.

And all at once it was silent, still, and dark.

Somewhere far off, in the most distant part of my conscious I heard a voice, but this wasn't Channer, and it wasn't telling me to move. It was calling for someone else.

"_Halt!"_

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I woke to a kind of pain I had seldom known before. My side throbbed and ached, and the tiniest shift of movement awoke muscles that were painfully stiff. I groaned and tried once more to move, only to find that I couldn't. I was trapped under something, and the attack came back to me in one crushing wave of a memory. In the darkness I struggled, pushing and shoving against the stone around me in a vain effort to set myself free.

I was sure I was going to die trapped under that rubble, but finally I found a rock that was loose. The chip of mortar was above me, not more than a hand's length from my face. It shook when I shoved it, and with a final shaky push of my right hand, it tumbled away.

Sunlight peered through the hole down on me, lighting a trail of dust and dirt that filled the air around me. I couldn't see much but a little piece of the bright blue sky, clear and watery in the sun's early light.

"Help."

I coughed, surprised to find my voice a dry croak. I took a moment to catch my breath, wincing as each cough ripped painfully through my side.

"Help!"

My voice was louder, but speaking hurt just as much as coughing did, and cry as I might, I couldn't think of a soul in the world who might hear me. The other man from the night before was as good as dead as far as I knew. Even if he wasn't, who's to say he would help me at all if by some chance he found me amidst the crumbled ruins.

I didn't find it likely. I closed my eyes and pressed my left hand against my side. Cuts stung under my palm, and I surmised that the gashes couldn't be very long or deep if they had stopped bleeding of their own accord. I blamed the constriction in my chest and side the effect of a few cracked or even broken ribs. Seeing as it only hurt when I moved too sharply or breathed too deeply, I stilled myself. I lay quietly in my place, confined in my own little grave. I felt oddly resigned to my fate just then.

The sound of something moving brought me back to my senses, and for a moment I swore I could hear the rash little whinny of Bracken somewhere close by. I didn't think it was real until my faithful steed thrust his muzzle against the tiny opening of the rubble and cried out again.

"Bracken!"

Little pebbles and dust showered down on me as the horse withdrew, and I coughed and sputtered once more. Another whinny and the sudden stomp of hooves shook more debris free of the stone, and I closed my eyes and mouth against it.

"_A Ranger's first duty is not to himself, or to his Kingdom even, but to his horse," _Channer had told me when I'd seen Bracken for the first time.

"_Don't_ _rest a moment until Bracken's been cared for, and by your own hand."_

A new resolve filled me, and I started to move again, my hands searching for the infirm chunks of stone that would set me free. As silly as it sounds, I was determined to tend to Bracken before I laid down and died.

"I'm coming Bracken, I'm coming."

* * *

It took me most of that morning, but I finally did it. I was horribly weak, but bit by bit I tore away at the rock above me, widening the little eye of light until I could squeeze through. First I used nothing but my finger nails, but gradually my sense returned, and soon I was using my dagger. Still, it was a painful contortion to get all of me through the little space, but I did it, and I reopened the wounds in my side in the act.

I shook with weariness when I finally staggered away from the rubble, and I clung to the neck of my horse for a long moment, burying my face in the warmth of his tawny mane. As if to show his own appreciation for his rider, Bracken nudged me with his snout and snorted against my neck. He lipped my shoulder gently and tugged at my sleeve.

I can't remember for the life of me if I'd tethered Bracken or not, but he'd come to me none the less. I'm ever grateful to my dear mount for that, because if he hadn't come along I'm sure I never would've dug myself out. He still wore his bridle and saddle, along with the saddlebags and the meager rations included there. I loosened the girth on Bracken's saddle and managed to open a small bag of grain for him. I set it on the ground and slumped against a little slab of masonry, leaning against it for support. It never occurred to me that the Kalkara might still be around, but I surmised that if anything attempted to get too close to us Bracken would give warning, and for me that was enough.

So I watched as Bracken thrust his entire muzzle into the bag and began to chomp away at the last of the grain I had for him. I smiled, thinking again that at least I knew how to care for a horse. It occurred to me then that I'd have to get Bracken more to eat and drink in the days to come if he was to be properly cared for, and I decided I'd have to mount him and ride to the nearest town to do so.

I tried to stand again, but my wounds wouldn't have it. They kept me right where I was, and grudgingly I struggled out of my cloak and tunic. I couldn't ride anywhere if I couldn't get on Bracken, and the horse needed to be taken to a place where he would be well cared for.

The sight of my side was enough to make my head spin dizzyingly. I'd seen people wounded before, and I'd even helped tend them, but it's something else when the dried blood covers your skin and not theirs. Like I'd suspected, several gashes adorned my right side that would no doubt leave my pale skin forever marked with ugly scars. That much I didn't quite mind, it was the cleaning and bandaging that bothered me. I struggled to do so for quite some time, attempting to wash as much of the dried blood away as I could. I didn't get all of it, or even most of it, but I decided that was well enough for the time being. Dully it registered in my mind then that the wounds looked odd, almost as if they were more than just a day or two old. I passed it off carelessly, deciding I must've been under the rubble a little longer than I'd thought.

Roughly, I wrapped bandages I had in my pack around myself and tied them as tight as I could, both to cover the wounds and hopefully hold my ribs together. By then the sky had begun to darken again, and I wondered idly how long I'd been unconscious and trapped. I guessed it couldn't have been more than a day, and now another I'd used up freeing myself and tending Bracken.

Perhaps the man had survived and was here among the ruins in a similar state as I was. I considered for a moment that maybe I should look for him, but that wouldn't help Bracken, and it was Bracken that Channer had entrusted to me to care for.

With that in mind I pulled a clean shirt from my pack and pulled it on, wincing when I had to raise my arms. I refastened my cloak around my neck and checked the girth straps on Bracken's saddle before I mounted him. Listlessly, I nudged him forward. I set him at a slow pace, and we weaved our way through the ruins to where I thought the attack had happened the night before.

For awhile I thought we were heading in the wrong direction, but then we came upon the blackened little area that had been the arena. There wasn't a sign of life anywhere in sight, only the remains of a battle I hadn't quite seen to the end. What pricked my interest however was the signs of fresh hoof prints in the dirt.

Staring at the prints didn't help me decide what had happened the night before, it only made me wonder who I'd find on the other end if I followed.

Throwing caution to the wind, I kneed Bracken forward in the hope that whoever it was that I found, they'd be willing enough to take good care of Bracken when I died.

* * *

I didn't get very far that first night, and I settled early beneath a tree to rest, falling almost instantly into a fevered sleep. That's when it must've first set in, like a thief in the night. I didn't feel any more rested than I had when I'd gone to sleep, but when the sun rose, so did I.

I was still piecing things together while I readied Bracken for another day of travel. I tried to think of what Channer would do had he been in my place, but I couldn't quite picture such an absurd thing happening. Channer would've never gotten into this sort of trouble, but knowing that wasn't going to get me any closer to getting out. I tried to remember back as far as I could to the times before the attack, but as always there were only bits and pieces.

That's something I fear I have neglected to share with you, and I can scarcely recall that I've told you anything of myself. And yet, I won't tell you yet. I want you to know who I am at heart before you know who I am by name. Of course, if I knew who I was at heart, I wouldn't be here either.

* * *

For several days I traveled, moving along at a sluggish pace to get to where I was going. Again, where I was going was a mystery to me. The hoof prints I'd followed from the ruins had been weathered away in the night, and I traveled by nothing more than instinct.

I was exhausted no matter how long I slept, and appetite was a thing from a distant memory. I was never hungry, and the thought of eating never crossed my mind. Looking back now I can see clearly what the fog that hung around me was, and I'm a bit abashed I hadn't seen it them. I'd cleaned my wounds once, and even then it hadn't been done well, but if I had done it perhaps once more that first night I would've noticed the swelling. Maybe I would've caught the first signs of infection before I was drunk with delirium.

But I didn't, and so for days I wandered almost aimlessly, sometimes in the complete wrong direction that I needed to go to get the help I didn't even know I needed.

Ironically the same thing that got me out of my would-be rocky tomb is what got me through those nights plagued so closely by racking shivers, and the days that were filled with the blundering of a man on his way to his death bed, was my horse.

Bracken would nudge me awake in the morning, prodding me with his snout until I opened my eyes to look at him.

_Just a little further, _his warm gaze seemed to promise, and so up I would drag myself, settling into the saddle that never left my poor horses back. I would lay myself out across his strong neck and close my eyes once more. On and on we would plod, and my only hope was that someone would find us, and that they'd take good care of my horse. I would force myself to drink little and eat even less, convinced that all that mattered any more was Bracken.

I only knew then that I had to stay alive a little longer.

Bracken's life depended on it.

* * *

**So here we see Gorlan's Ranger go into a bit of a stupor since the attack, the main reason, (in case you hadn't caught it) is both shock and injury. He's delirious, and now we get to see the love that Ranger's share for their horses in a new sort of way. **

**Rest assured, during the next chapter you will finally come face to face with Gorlan's Ranger. =) Don't forget to read and review. =)**


	5. Blueberry Muffins

**And so it continues...**

* * *

I was clinging awkwardly to Bracken's back when I first came to the clearing, and had I been more conscious of mind I might've had the sense to turn and leave. Instead I ventured closer for a better look, forcing myself upright with shaky hands.

He was standing by a tree below, seated before a fire with a sword laying next to him. There was a small assortment of supplies spread neatly around him, and at the sight of him I almost smiled.

I heard myself speaking in a cracked voice that wasn't mine, and my tired mind worked hard to distinguish who he was.

"Dirk."

At the sound of my voice the man turned away from the fire and the small dish of food he was cooking to look at me. I saw the surprise on his face turn to grim pleasure as he rose. Bracken danced back a step or two, shaking out his mane in a declaration that proclaimed Dirk an enemy. I ignored him. Dirk had been a friend of Channer. What harm could he do?

"Well if it isn't Ranger Griffin. I thought I'd never see you again, let alone alive." Dirk walked steadily towards me, moving almost casually up the slope.

"Come on, slide off the horse, I'll get you something to eat. They'll be glad to know that we've found you."

"Who?" I asked, because I couldn't quite remember anyone who'd be glad to find me dead or alive. Well, maybe. There was Channer, but he was dead. Wasn't he?

"Have a meal with me and I'll tell you."

For a moment my tired mind worked furiously at the thought, and a frown crossed my face and creased my forehead.

"No."

It was Dirk's turn to frown, "What?"

"I can't, not before Bracken is fed. You wouldn't happen to have any grain or oats, would you?" I could feel myself sway awkwardly in the saddle. Dirk was swimming in my gaze.

Dirk hefted the sword in one hand. I didn't quite remember seeing him draw it from a sheath. Or had it been in his hand the whole time? By the Gods, it looked sharp.

"I don't think you're hearing me. I wasn't asking, I was telling, now get down from there."

I can't quite decide why it was that Bracken persisted in fending for me.

The next step that Dirk took was met by my mounts savage and sudden ferocity. The blade that Dirk had wielded rang as Bracken's hooves struck it. I heard Dirk cry out and lunge away from us as Bracken surged forward at him. I wrapped both my hands in the reins and gripped the horse with my knees.

I don't recall what it was I must have been thinking just then. Only the screaming of my heart in chest and the vehement pounding in my head.

Bracken's fore hooves came down hard in front of the fallen Dirk. The horse snorted and danced back and away from him, ignoring my attempts at calming him. Where the sudden bravery of my horse had come from I'll never be sure. I only wished it had lasted a tad bit longer.

A snapping of underbrush sounded behind us. Bracken jerked around, and I do believe he was for a moment expecting to see another someone wielding a sword.

Neither one of us had anticipated a Wargal. The bear like creature roared, a horrid sound to hear from any creatures throat. It hefted a spear, and beneath me I felt the bravery go out of Bracken with a shudder that set him to trembling. With a fearful little whiff of a whinny the horse turned and bolted, careening over Dirk to go soaring across the clearing.

As stricken as I was I managed to cling to my horses back. I have to say that it was by some God's grace that I retained my seat. For had I fallen then not even Bracken could've saved me from the Wargals.

* * *

We hadn't ran far before I managed to slam my heels into Bracken's side and haul back on the reins. It was a pitiful effort to stop him, but he heeded it none the less. He skittered to a stop, shaking his head from side to side in dismay. His eyes were wild with fear, and I did what I could to calm him. I kept wondering if someone would come along and do the same for me.

With a hazy start of recognition I heard hooves against the earth, and the clash of steal. I turned, looking back at the path Bracken had barreled through the brush. Dirk had been a friend of Channer once. I remembered having dinner with them a time or two during my apprenticeship. More importantly I remembered the laughter and good times we'd once shared.

"Stand back! I'm on a mission for Lord Morgarath. Stand back, I order you! I order you in Lord Morgarath's name!"

Hearing Dirk's voice made the decision for me. I couldn't leave him, simply because Channer wouldn't leave him. Struggling to stay upright, I swung Bracken back around and nudged him forward.

"We have to help him, Bracken. If only so he'll take of you."

I'm not sure if it was the words or simply the sound of my voice that urged Bracken onward. I only know that he took me back to that clearing just in time for me to be too late.

* * *

Bracken would only go so far before he began to tremble again. The horse shuddered, the vibration traveling through his whole body. I shoved myself from the saddle, half tumbling to my feet. I stumbled and staggered a bit drunkenly before I could force my legs to hold me up. The thought of pulling my bow and nocking an arrow to the string never occurred to me. I only drew my saxe knife from my belt and moved forward into the clearing.

"Drop your weapons! All of you!"

I glanced away from the sight of the Wargals closing in on a cornered Dirk, my head swirling sickeningly with the slight movement. My mind fumbled for a name for the mounted men. They must have thought well of themselves to be shouting at the Wargals.

Archers?

No. Rangers.

Thoughts came slowly to me, as if everything was moving too fast for me to keep up with. I saw the Wargals look away. I saw one look back, a snarl erupting from it's long muzzle. I watched the spear held in the beasts' hand slam into Dirk. I saw the terror bloom in his eyes as he sank to his knees.

I heard myself scream.

"No!"

And now they were looking at me. The sway footed and fear sickened man that was me. I'd started forward without a second thought, my only care in the world resting on saving Dirk. He couldn't die, he simply could not.

Who would take care of Bracken if Dirk was dead?

I intended to kill the Wargals, with nothing but a saxe knife. Somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear Dirk's laughter mingling with Channer's deep chuckle. Dirk fell to his knees as a Wargal turned to me. It's yellow eyes looked down it's long muzzle at me. It growled, saliva dripping from it's muzzle, and raised it's sword as it struck forward towards me.

Somewhere between the beasts' roar and the collision of the sword against my rib cage I realized that a saxe knife was not going to do me much good. By then it was too late for me to do anything. So I just stood there.

The flat side of the weapon caught me in my already wounded side, hitting with a horrible crunch of breaking bone.

I heard someone scream as my side erupted in pain. It took me a moment to realize that it was me, and that the ground was slamming into me. Or was I slamming into it?

Blackness boomed at the edges of my vision as wave after wave of pain ripped through me. I curled around my wounded side, wrapping my arms around myself as if to hold me together.

All around me the Wargals fell dead from the touch of arrows.

* * *

I was only faintly aware of what was happening around me. I was too taken with the agony that squeezed the breath from me to do more than lay there and fight the urge to cry out again. I wasn't doing so well as it was. My head was pounding, throbbing with the searing torment that rattled through me. I ignored the sounds of everything around me.

Bracken came to me and butted his head against my shoulder. He scraped a hoof in the dirt and shuddered with a mournful little sound I've never heard a horse make. I groaned and curled closer into a ball, pulling away from the touch of my horse.

"I'm sorry Bracken. I'm sorry."

* * *

I'm told I lost consciousness after that, which is well enough. I don't remember anything between my apology and the tending of my injuries. I wished I could have remained unconscious for that particular part of my rescue, but I came around to someone leaning over me.

I was lying on something slightly softer than a hard wood floor, and above me I could see the sturdy beams that supported a roof. A could hear the warm crackling of a hearth and somewhere farther off the delicious simmering of a stew. More prominent in my view was a man's face, bearded and grizzled. He had hair peppered through with streaks of grey to match his beard. His eyes were dark, but not unkind.

I still hurt, but someone had done something to ease the pain, and I assumed it must have been him.

"Do you have a name?" He asked me.

I blinked and struggled to move for a moment. He steadied me with a firm hand on my shoulder.

"Stay still or you might reopen the wound."

I swallowed, gathering the will to speak. "Where am I?"

"In a cottage in Redmont," he replied. His hands weren't idle as he spoke, and I realized he was examining my side.

"What… What happened to me?"

His gaze flicked to me and he frowned thoughtfully, "I was going to ask you the same thing. Do you remember the Wargal?"

Flashes of my most recent attack came back to me, I shuddered. "I have broken bones, don't I?" The sound of bone snapping was vivid in my memory.

"Yes. Mostly your ribs on one side. What about this gash? When did that happen?"

I frowned and thought for a long moment. "I… I don't know. I can't remember." And I couldn't. Not for the life of me. I searched through my hazy memory, trying vainly to recall what I had been doing before I ran into Dirk. "Where's Dirk?" I demanded suddenly.

"Dirk Reacher?"

I nodded because I didn't quite trust myself to speak just then. Why did Dirk matter so much to me suddenly? What did it matter to me if he was dead or not?

"He's dead."

Then it hit me, like a ton of bricks. It came back to me that fast. To think that all it took to break that smell of forgetfulness was a few words is astonishing. I wish I knew the words that would let me recall the rest of memory.

"Bracken, where's Bracken? He's not dead too, is he?"

I tried to sit up again, but the man wouldn't let me. His hand was still firm on my shoulder. I winced, but found I hadn't the strength to fight him. Suddenly my heart was beating quicker with the fear that I had lost my noble steed. He might not have been noble in the eyes of so many others, but he'd brought me here. He'd saved my life. I noticed then how hard it was to breathe. Pain arced through my side, like a line of daggers piercing my skin.

"Easy, I haven't bound your side yet," he warned me. "Bracken is fine, he's your horse, isn't he?"

"Yes," I managed to say between the sharp gasps that came with the pain. I forced myself to calm down. Bracken was fine. The stranger had taken care of both him and me.

"I'm Halt," he told me. I think he only spoke to me to keep my mind away from his hands that worked at my side. He was prodding at the wound now, and I could see by the look on his face that it couldn't be good.

"Griff," I said, flinching when he touched the edge of the wound.

"Did your mother name you?"

What that had to do with anything I didn't know, but the talking was keeping my attention on his words. My side hurt less when I didn't think about it. "Yes."

"What was she like?"

I forced myself to think of my mother as I remembered her before her illness. "She was pretty, short and thin, with dark curls of hair that fell to her shoulders. She was a maid at the castle, and she scraped out a living for us." I found myself warmed by the thoughts of her. "She made wonderful blueberry muffins," I told him, remembering the savory taste of the moist pastry with butter smoothed over it. "Have you ever had a blueberry muffin?"

Halt gave me an odd look before he nodded his head, "Yes, but I prefer raisins instead of blueberries."

Pain shot through my side suddenly, I gasped and fought the urge to shove him away. I tried to still myself, and found myself clenching my eyes shut. I felt beads of sweat trickling down the back of my neck as I trembled.

"It's infected," he said after a long silence. "But it's not turned black at the edges just yet."

Often times when a wound became infected the flesh would begin to rot, and many referred to it as blackening of the wound. I wasn't dying yet, but I sure felt like it.

"I think you'll be fine," Halt assured me. "I'm not much of a healer. But you've still got some fight left in you. With some rest and a few herbs you'll make it all right."

I didn't know what to say, so I just lay there and tried to nod at him. He told me to stay where I was, as if I could go anywhere at all, and went in search of a healing salve. I felt confined as I lay there, looking at the roof above me. Halt wasn't gone long, and by the sounds of it he never left the room. His foot steps were soft on the hard wood floor, but I found if I laid my ear against the rug I could hear them. They grew louder as he walked back towards me.

"Halt… Can I ask you to do something for me?"

Halt knelt beside me again, settling down a number of things, including a pot of salve. I also recognized a mug of what looked to be water, a roll of fresh bandages, and several herbs.

"What is it?"

He'd gone back to looking at the wound in my side, scrutinizing it and trying to decide how best to treat it.

"I have a medallion," I told him softly, "It's in my saddlebag. It's silver, and it's the only thing I have left of… Someone important to me. Could you bring it to me?"

Something in my tone must have deemed the request important, for he turned his attention away from what he was doing to met my eyes. I'm not quite sure what I saw in his gaze, only that it meant he understood how such a thing could be important to someone.

"Sure."

Halt rose quietly, and I heard his retreating steps. They paused a moment, and I heard what sounded like someone shifting through items. I heard his steps coming back, but they were slower now. I saw the look on his face, one of speculation and uncertainty.

"Where did you get this?"

For the first time I heard something in his voice that seemed less than kind. He'd knelt again and he eyed me carefully, waiting for the answer he expected me to give.

"Do you know what it is?" I asked him, but I was sure he knew. Suddenly the name Halt seemed familiar.

"It's the Ranger's badge of office," He tugged a silver chain away from his neck, showing me the same token that he wore. "I've been in the Corps for years, and I was there when they pulled the body of Ranger Griffin from the Slipsunder."

I felt as if there was something I should have remembered, something that would have made the look in Halt's eyes less of a reproach. I couldn't quite grasp at the thread of memory.

I met his gaze squarely instead, "I swear on my life that it wasn't Ranger Griffin of Gorlan they found dead," I told him. "but for the last fifteen years I've wished everyday that it was."

* * *

**So that's it for this Chappy... Please read and review and all that good stuff. You finally got a name. WOOT WOOT! And in the next chapter you get to learn more about him. Be prepared though, it'll be quite of bit of conversation. =)**


	6. I Just Don't Remember

**And so it continues... Please read and review. Let me know of ideas, theories or just something else you'd like to mention about Gorlan's Ranger. Does Halt seem like Halt? Let me know, even simple things make a story all the better. =)**

* * *

Halt could have ended my life as I lay there on the floor of his home, and I would have been powerless to stop him. He could have easily taken the saxe knife at this belt and gutted me like a fish, or perhaps strangled me with his bare hands. I wouldn't have had the strength or the heart to stop him if he made an attempt on my life.

But he didn't.

No, the Ranger did something that made me wonder what it was about me that drew the mercy of people. Then again I don't suppose I would have seen a quick death dealt by his hand as a bad thing. I'd been wishing I was dead for quite a long time. I was too scared to give up my own life, would you believe that? The only thing that kept me around for fifteen years was the fear of my own knife belted at my waist.

I seem to be rambling. I do that often, or so I'm told. I suppose it might be a good thing. It helps you see more of me than I'd like to share, but you need all the pieces of the puzzle to make the picture. That includes the sorrowfully painted pieces I don't like to look at myself.

Again I do fear I have strayed, and so I'll tell you what it is that surprised me. Halt didn't seem hostile to me at all. He placed the Oak Leaf in my hand, and I wrapped my fingers around it. I opened my mouth to speak, but he silenced me with a look. He set aside the lid for the pot of salve and went back to examining the gash.

"You could start by telling me what happened to you fifteen years ago," Halt said grimly.

"You believe me then?" I asked, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders.

"I never said that, but it seems plausible. There was no Oak Leaf on the dead man in the Slipsunder, but your mentor was sure it was you."

My mind reeled, "Channer told you it was me?"

Halt gave me an odd look, "He did."

"When did I die?" I faltered, "Or when did you think I died?"

"We found you, or who we thought was you, just before Morgarath's rebellion," Halt told me.

"I don't understand…"

Halt frowned, "What part?" He seemed to be losing his patience with me. I could understand why. I was blundering on like a fool, stumbling over my own words as I tried to connect the dots.

"Morgarath set the Kalkara after Channer when the Ranger found out Morgarath's intentions. We tried to send word to the King, but they caught up to us…" For once I found myself able to recall something, and yet I didn't want to. I didn't want to remember my mentor in his last moments. Fortunately it wasn't very vivid. Just flashes of a dark night, filled with the cries of the beasts. There was Channer, cornered by them both on the plain. It's rather odd, how one can be trapped in an open field. Channer was telling to me run.

"Channer… Channer was killed. I—I left him."

For a long while Halt was silent. I felt the brief sting of the salve against the gash before the pain subsided, replaced by a cooling sensation. It felt good, unlike the bandaging that followed.

"He must have gotten away," Halt decided. I could tell that he was hiding something. "And?" I prompted.

"He never mentioned the Kalkara in particular, only that he was attacked on his way to Redmont. He'd thought you'd gotten away from the attack and were ahead of him."

I let out a long flustering sigh. We'd thought each other dead when we weren't. A sudden thought struck me, "Is he alive?"

Halt shook his head slowly, "I'm sorry. He died in the battle against Morgarath."

Anguish flooded the little fire of hope I had kindled inside me. Channer was still dead, and I was still alive. Nothing had changed much in that matter.

"Sit up," Halt told me. He offered his hand and I grasped it, finding it painful to move. I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me as Halt steadied me with a firm hand. "I have to bandage your ribs or they'll heal all wrong."

I knew it was going to be painful, but that didn't make the prodding any more welcome when it came. As he felt for the breaks in my bones I felt the need to speak again. "Who do you think it was that they pulled from the Slipsunder?"

Halt shrugged, "That's a very good question. I still want to believe that it was the newly named Ranger Griffin, but your story seems to make sense. You're... Familiar, and yet you've changed." For a moment Halt was silent, deliberating. The grim look on his face gave nothing away when he finally found words again. "Do you remember your first assignment at the Ranger gathering? Just after you were given a bronze Leaf."

I forced myself to think, to push my consciousness back in time to remember it all. There was nothing. There was never anything. I felt myself slipping, losing the little foot hold I had gained with the Ranger beside me. He wouldn't believe the truth if I told it to him, but I didn't have the courage to lie to him.

"I don't remember. I don't remember much of anything at all. There was an incident. I was hit with something, and I forgot. I forgot it all." I winced at remembering the sudden painful clash of something against the back of my head. Hard and sharp it was, with enough force to pitch my vision into complete blackness. My mind soon followed into that blank abyss.

"I can't remember. Sometimes I can recall being tied up or forced to follow along behind a horse. I don't know where we were going. Nor do I remember who it was that led us. It's just… Gone. All of it."

I didn't have to look at Halt to know he was giving me a stare filled with disbelief. He seemed to sigh to himself.

"This is going to hurt," he warned me.

I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, but a sharp twist of agony pierced my side, and I screamed instead.

I felt as if I was losing my memory again, pitched down into the dark recess of unconsciousness. I remember hoping I wouldn't arise as I had last time, my mind a blank state, devoid of everything that had been dear to me.

* * *

"You just left him lying on the floor? What in the world is wrong with you? Look at him, he's pale as death itself, and you've left him just lying there!"

I woke to the sound of that voice, soft and yet sharp with distaste. I opened my eyes, finding it a rather difficult task to accomplish. A woman was making her way towards me, leaving Halt standing with an odd look on his face. I couldn't quite name what it was I saw on the Ranger's face. I didn't really want to look away from the woman who was settling herself down beside me, a frown creasing her face. I acknowledged how pretty a face it was, framed with straight dark locks of hair. The rest was bound back into one long braid. She was dressed in a rather eccentric way, with neat tan trousers and an overly long tunic that was gathered at the waist by a thick belt. The clothes of a man looked odd on her, but I can't say I was disappointed.

My gaze switched to Halt, a question in my eyes. The Ranger had come closer and again I found myself unable to read his face.

"You, look at me. Not him. Me," quick hands, soft and delicate with their gentle use, turned my face back to the woman. "That's better. Now tell me your name."

"Griff," I managed to croak my name to her. I received a frown that grew into a reproachful glare when her gaze found Halt.

"Have you thirsted him to death as well as treated him like a dog?"

I found it rather touching to hear someone speaking in my defense. It had been a long time since anyone had cared to do so. "Halt hasn't treated me badly," I told her. I found it harder to speak when her blue gaze settled back on me.

"Then why are you lying on the floor?"

I didn't quite know to be honest, but it wasn't uncomfortable. "Would you let someone like me sleep in your bed?"

Her dark brows knitted themselves into a thoughtful line, "You are a rather dreadful looking fellow. Tell me, do you bathe often?"

I should have guessed that I couldn't have appeared very pleasant. I'd been bumbling through the wilderness for who knew how long, and I certainly hadn't stopped to wash and dress cleanly at every stream I passed.

"I guess it depends on how I'm doing," I found myself telling the strange woman. "In the case that I feel like I'm dying, such things don't end up on my list of priorities. I'm sorry."

She tilted her head and rested it on her hand, giving me a speculative look. "I do believe we both are. Just what is it that ends up on this list of yours?"

Again I found myself speaking before I could gather the thought to. "Bracken of course."

Halt's voice startled me, "The horse?"

I nodded at him, an awkward thing to do when lying down, "Yes. Channer told me to always take care of him before everything else."

I heard the woman sigh and began riffling through a bag I hadn't noticed she'd brought with her. She pulled out several things good for healing and laid them out beside me. "I do believe Channer forgot to mention to you that you can care for no horse if you yourself are dead or dying."

I felt stung at her words. They were stark reminders to me that Channer was dead, and I likely thought to be an imposter. How would the mentor see his former apprentice now? I remember the pride of Channer's gaze as I was recognized a full fledged Ranger. He had been glad to know I would be staying in Gorlan a short time longer before I was assigned a fief of my own. What would he feel about me now?

"Could you get me some water? For him and for cleaning?" The woman looked to Halt. Silently the Ranger obeyed, his retreating footsteps showing his obedience.

"You can call me Audrey. I'm the Redmont healer's assistant. Now tell me where it hurts."

Her words had the ring of a commonly recited verse, and yet they were courteous with the care I'd always found healers to have.

"Just my side," I told her quietly.

She nodded silently, and deftly her hands tugged at the bandages that Halt had wrapped me in. Audrey pulled them away from my skin to examine the wound again. Unlike Halt she had a gentle way of it, and not once did I flinch as her hands brushed over the ragged tear in my side.

"Two cracked, one broken," Audrey announced. I hadn't thought she'd checked the bones as well. "You'll be fine Sir Griff."

"Sir?" I echoed, unsure of the meaning.

"You must be a knight to take that sort of abuse and live to tell the tale. What exactly were you doing to get such marks? Wrestled a bear, did you?"

I shook my head, "No. I'm not quite sure what I was doing. There was a Wargal, and then the Kalkara before that."

Audrey raised an eyebrow at me as if I was insane. "Sure thing, good Sir Griff. Now lets have the truth."

"That is the truth," I frowned, "at least I think it is."

A long speculative look followed my comment before Audrey spoke again. "When was the last time you had something warm to eat?"

I mimicked her silence, thinking hard about the question. "I don't remember. I don't remember when I last ate at all."

There was a twitch to her lips I didn't quite like. She finished bandaging me up again, and when Halt came back with a cup of water and a warm bowl of broth she helped me sit up.

"I assume you remember how a spoon works?" Audrey pressed the bowl into my hands, making sure I could hold it on my own.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good boy. Now eat and drink, I'll be back to check on you in a little bit."

Audrey and Halt moved away from me, leaving me leaning against the stone wall of the hearth to eat quietly. Sitting up made everything around me look so much different. Now I could see the chairs that had been pushed aside to make room for me on the rug by the fire. Across I could see the small stove that made up the kitchen, and the table that was placed half in and half out of the living and cooking area. It was a typical Ranger's cottage, as far as I could tell. Halt and Audrey had gone into another room, a bedroom by the looks of it. I wondered idly what it was they were speaking of. It must have been something they didn't want me to hear, and I assumed it must have had something to do with me. I thought about that for a long moment as I sipped at the hot broth. It felt warm and savory on my empty belly, and yet I found I couldn't quite handle swallowing much of it. I'd just barely reached the bottom of the dish when I realized I was full. I drank the water afterwards in several long gulps. I felt my eyes start to droop closed again when a voice awakened me.

"Keep it in mind Ranger. He might be healing well in body, but he is not all there in the mind." It was Audrey's voice, and I found I could hear the fierce severity of her tone. She certainly was not one deterred by the rumors of Ranger's. Halt leaned in the doorway for a long moment, watching after Audrey with a grim look. His dark eyes flicked to me again and I found myself wanting to shrink under that stare.

"Good. You've eaten." Audrey settled beside me again to gather up her things into the small leather bag she'd brought with her. She slung it over one shoulder and collected the dish and the cup from me. "I'll be back tomorrow to check on you. Leave the bandages as they are and don't get them wet."

"Alright."

It was the best reply I could manage, but she didn't seem to mind at all. "Good night, Sir Griff."

"Good night," I echoed after.

* * *

I was refastening my cloak around my shoulders when he walked in. We stared dumbfounded at one another for a long moment before the boy stuck out his hand to me.

"I'm Will, Halt's apprentice."

I shook his hand, finding that the movement didn't quite hurt as much as I thought it might. The day of rest and salve on the wound had done wonders, but I could feel weariness creeping into my bones once more. "Griff."

"You're a Ranger, aren't you?" He asked, staring at me with something close to awe in his eyes.

"Yes," I admitted reluctantly. I wanted to say I didn't deserve it, because in reality I didn't. What had I done to prove myself worthy of the title? "Or I was one," I added as an afterthought. "It has been a long time since I have done the deeds of a Ranger." At least that part rang true.

"Halt said you might be, and your horse looks like a Ranger's horse."

I had to smile at that, "Now the horse deserves that title," I told him.

"Going somewhere?" Halt asked as he stepped into the main room. I hadn't heard him leave. I would never get used to other Ranger's. Even being one didn't make it any less startling when one of them ghosted into a room. Perhaps it was just me, always the mouse, always the coward.

"I was going to see Bracken," I said quietly, "He's here, isn't he?"

Halt nodded, "He's in the lean-to. He's been taken care of."

I sighed my gratitude, "Thank you. You have no idea what I'd do if something happened to Bracken."

"I'm curious, what can you do?"

Halt's question caught me off guard. He was still trying to gage whether or not I was telling the truth or not. I couldn't blame him. I'm not sure I could blame anyone.

"You believe Bracken's a Ranger horse, don't you?"

Halt considered it for a moment, "I'm sure of it."

"You know that only a Ranger can ride a Ranger's horse, and I can ride Bracken well enough."

"And what does that prove?" Halt challenged, "you could have easily put a knife to a Ranger's throat and demanded to know the words."

I thought for a moment, trying to think of some way to prove to Halt that I was telling the truth. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if I failed. I had heard stories of what happened to people who simply became too much of a problem for a Ranger. I didn't want to end up like Arndor of Crewse, or worse.

"I could have," I said slowly, "But how would I know that words were needed to ride a Ranger's horse?"

Halt raised an eyebrow at that, a gesture of timid surprise for someone like him. "We'll see then, when you're well enough to ride, if you can indeed ride the horse. In the meantime you'll stay here where I can keep an eye on you."

There wasn't much I could say to that. Halt's words had taken away the little edge of triumph I'd felt at outwitting him. Unless of course it had been a test. I brushed it aside to puzzle over later.

"I still wish to see Bracken," I declared, "Just to know he's all right." It seemed to me as if we spoke of a bargain, and I was determined to get all that I could.

"I do believe I've already told you where he's at," Halt said. The Ranger headed to the fire, his apprentice trailing after him. It wasn't exactly the answer I had been expecting from him, and I felt somewhat intimidated by it. Regardless of how I felt I had to see Bracken. I had a wobbly way of walking, and with some difficultly I made it out the door and onto the verandah. I was beginning to see why Halt was letting me go to Bracken. He didn't think I could make very far on my own.

Truth be told, I didn't think I could either.

Still, I stepped out into the chilly night air and closed the door behind me. I pulled my cloak closer around me, for I had neglected to reclaim my tunic. I doubted the bloodstained and torn garment would lend me any protection to the night either way. Slowly I made my way to the lean-to, eyeing my surroundings with interest.

Night had settled on the forest that bordered the cottage like a blanket. Overhead the stars shone brightly, pinpoints of light in the dark indigo sky. A cloudless night it was, letting the moon and it's half full face light up the forest in silver elegance. There was something about the sight that sparked an interest in me. I had seen the land like this before, where the moon's cloak of silver touched everything. I remember gazing at the sky and standing by Channer's side.

Funny that I remember something like that just then. I had looked at the stars ever since I had set out for Gorlan some time ago, why hadn't I remembered then?

I'm not sure it mattered, for the brief revelation did not last long. I heard the rumble of Channer's voice murmur words I couldn't quite make out. I sighed.

What was wrong with me?

That too was something brushed aside. Bracken came before myself, and although I had done a rather decent job of botching my own belief of that, I still felt the need to see him. He seemed to share the same need, for when I slipped into the lean-to he near knocked me over in excitement.

Bracken had been tethered to a post in the shelter and given grain and water in buckets hung on hooks in the lean-to's wooden wall. He didn't seem to have eaten or drank much, and that worried me. I calmed him, but it was a while before he stilled completely. He butted his head against me in that affectionate way horses have and lipped at my shoulder and neck. I ran my hands over his fresh groomed pelt, finding him well cared for. There wasn't a single mark on him, and it soothed me to know that he was doing quite a bit better than myself.

I spoke softly to him and told him of my day. It seems a silly thing to share with a horse, but I believed he enjoyed hearing my voice. I'm quite convinced that Bracken, my often melodramatic mount, had begun to mourn me as dead.

To put his mind at ease I stayed with him a while and leaned my head against his strong neck. He radiated warmth and comfort like a fire. I couldn't help but feel safe with his shaggy pelt beneath my hands.

"You're a good horse Bracken. Not only did you find people who could take care of you, but you saved me too."

He butted his forehead against mine, as if to ask, _Did you ever doubt me?_

I patted his neck, both soothed and suddenly prideful of the little horse. Bracken had become the one thing in my life that was never changing. He was always there. Just a young pony and a determined apprentice we had started out, and now we stood side by side like we had done the very day we met. I wondered if he knew that I was thinking on that, drawing on the only memories I could recall that weren't shadowy and dark. Such a long way we had gone to end up as a blank-minded coward and a vigilant horse. Of course, with me as his so called master I couldn't say he was doing wonderful.

Bracken nickered and edged a little closer to me. Perhaps he could sense the dread I was feeling. I'd put him and everyone else in my life to shame. Channer. My fellow Rangers. My King. I'd let all of them down, and I didn't even remember why I had failed them.

I had never wanted to remember so badly before that night. My memories were not faded, but truly lost in some dark corner of my mind. There was so much I didn't know of, so much that didn't make sense to me. Why would Channer say I was dead? Did he really think it was me? What happened to me?

I don't understand how so much of a person can be simply forgotten in such a way. Years of my life, simply vanished overnight. To this day I still don't know why it happened, but leaning against Bracken that night I felt I didn't care at all whether I understood it or not.

I just wanted to remember.

* * *

**And so it goes on.**

**It gets kind of confusing at times, but the lose ends in this chapter are tied up later. Mainly in the next 1 or 2 chapters. What's wrong with Griff, for instance. What he's been up to the past fifteen years... What Halt intends to do about him... And what's gonna happen to him now. **

**Don't forget to read and review, I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing. If you like certain exchanges between two characters, or dislike them, let me know. Are they too fake? Is the plot too hard to follow? Simple stuff. =)**


	7. A Little Bit of Clarity

**I know it has taken me forever to update, and I sincerely apologize. School gets the best of me every now and then. Luckily, I should be free for a while. =) Lots of thanks to all the reviewers, who're undoubtedly the best, but let's not forget the favorites and alerts as well. =)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Fog rolls in suddenly, coating everything in a blanket of damp and turning the air into a chalky wall. One could walk on forever in a field laden with the ghostly mist, never knowing exactly where they're going.

But the fog can lift just as quick as it can settle, with just the gentle brush of breeze to move it on its way.

For the second time I woke in a place unfamiliar to me. This time not on the floor of Halt's cottage, but leaning against the wall of the lean-to, Bracken's big head resting across my lap. The silly horse had gone and stretched himself out across the ground, laying out on his side so he could be close to me. At least I assumed that was the reason for such shenanigans.

"Are you alright?" Will asked, staring down at me with an almost innocent expression on his face. He was framed by the watery light of the early morning, and I felt I envied him just then. His brown eyes were bereft of the worry and guilt that plagued me, and instead filled with a boyish curiosity I no longer had.

"I'm fine," I murmured sleepily.

Bracken lifted his head and shook his mane, nickering at Will as he rose to his feet. The horse seemed unaffected by the night spent sleeping on the ground. It didn't exactly come as a surprise to me, but yet another thing that I was rather jealous of. Will offered me his hand as I grunted and rose, finding myself on swaying feet.

As if to steady me Bracken thrust his muzzle against my shoulder, letting out a snort that seemed to be an outrageous declaration of my clumsiness.

"I think he's trying to tell you you've let yourself go," Will chipped in helpfully. I had to smile at him.

"I have to agree, with both you and the horse," I retorted, giving Bracken's neck a good pat.

"He does act a lot like a Ranger horse."

Will's sudden statement startled me, and I nodded a bit too late. "He's a Ranger horse, through and through. I'm not quite sure I deserve to have him as a companion, but there's only one way to make sure he's well cared for."

"You could always have someone else take care of him, someone you trusted," Will suggested.

I wondered how it was such an articulate young boy had gotten apprenticed to the grimmest of Rangers. Certainly one like Will, who seemed so ready to talk to complete strangers must drive the quiet mentor near crazy. To me however it was a bit different. I couldn't say I had made many friends of late, and to have someone speak as if it didn't matter where I'd come from or what I'd done was a great comfort.

"I don't know many people willing enough to take care of Bracken. He is, after all, a Ranger horse. Perhaps it'd be best if a Ranger, one who knows how it is Ranger horse's are cared for, looked after him."

Will looked at me with eagerness brimming in his eyes. "I could do it," he said. "I could take care of him for you, just until you're well enough to care for him yourself."

Again I found myself smiling, "I'd be more than grateful if I had a hand looking after Bracken."

Bracken kicked a bucket to our feet as if to prompt us to get to work. The pail was empty, a few bits of oats from the night before scattered around it. He flicked his ears at us expectantly.

"Halt would probably put him out to graze instead of give him another bucket full of oats," Will mentioned as he picked up the bucket. "He thinks too many treats and easy meals make a horse fat."

There was something close to mischief in Will's voice. I shrugged in reply, "And what do you think?"

Will moved to one wall of the lean-to to collect a burlap sack. He unstrung the opening and pulled out a handful of oats to offer to Bracken. "I think that what Halt doesn't know won't inspire him to think of anymore chores to be done around the cottage."

I grinned. I too had been an apprentice before, with all the household chores being my responsibility. Channer had been merciless when it came to that particular aspect of being a Ranger apprentice. I cleaned so often as an apprentice that I began to find it hard not to keep things neat and tidy. My saddlebags were neatly arranged, with everything organized in a specific order. I could find what I needed from those leather cases with my eyes closed. Perhaps that was the sort of trait that was drilled into a Ranger apprentice.

"Besides," Will continued, his voice pulling me back from my thoughts. "He does look a bit skinny."

* * *

I'm not sure where Halt went that morning, but I do know when he came back. I was outside, knee deep in a cold stream behind the cabin. I'd asked Will the use of some soaps, and he'd happily obliged. He'd even given me something clean to dry off with and I found fresh clothes in my own saddlebags. They were a bit dusty from being packed away for travel, but with a bit of airing out they would be a welcome improvement to my current attire. When I'd woken I'd only been wearing my trousers, my cloak, and a great deal of bandages. I think it's safe to say that anything was better than that.

I felt bone weary already again. Once Will had helped me feed Bracken I'd got to work on grooming the horse. I felt I owed him that much for all he'd done for me. Bracken seemed to appreciate my effort, and he turned his head to eye his sleek flank admiringly. He made a great deal of thanking me by many fierce nudges. Much like my horse, I thought I might be more attractive if I cleaned myself up a bit. It's certainly what Channer would've done had he been in my place.

Noon found me down by the water, icy water swirling about my feet and plucking at the legs of my trousers. My ribs made movement painful and stiff, but that couldn't be helped. It wasn't long before Halt came down to the stream on silent feet. I might not have ever noticed he was there until he spoke.

"I didn't think you'd be up so soon."

I didn't turn, but kept myself busy at scrubbing the dirt from my hair. "Neither did I," I admitted before I bent to rinse the suds from my hair. My hair had grown longer, almost to the length that I could pull it back into a stub of a tail. I decided I'd cut it short again if I was ever permitted the use of a knife.

"Yesterday you mentioned something about the Kalkara."

I frowned, thinking. I spoke my words slowly, mulling them over in my mind before giving them life. "I did."

"When I asked you how you got the gash in your side you said you didn't remember."

I shook my head at him. "I didn't remember then, and I don't remember it all too well now. It was dark, and cool outside. Bracken did not like what we followed, but we did anyways."

Everything was vague, as it always was when I started to remember. Just snippets and hazy visions. Sometimes I could speculate and guess at what had happened. I'd learned to speak it all aloud to myself until I spoke the truth. It was unmistakable once one remembered. It all comes back in vivid detail. I waited for that sensation. I longed for it, but slowly I shook my head again. What I sought in my memory was simply not there today.

I can't blame Halt for not being deterred by my blank look. "What did you follow?"

"I believe it was the Kalkara." It was the best I could give him, and I gave no more. He left me to wash and went back to the cottage. Halt had brought fresh bandages and more salve. I had a harder time of cleaning the gash in my side, but I found my efforts were well worth the results. I trekked wearily back up the path, clad in clean clothes and fresh bandages.

Will was sitting at the table when I ventured back into the warmth of the cabin. The sun's watery light hadn't been warm enough to fight away the chill of the cold wash water, and the brush of warmth felt good.

The apprentice looked up from his work, which looked to be a map of the surrounding forest. He looked antagonized with a quill in hand. I left him to his charting and went in search of Halt. I'd been rather cynical about asking for the use of a knife to shave, and maybe cut my hair. I'd gone through my saddlebags to find that my own kit of shaving tools were missing, along with both my knives and my quiver of arrows. I could see why Halt might've taken them. I doubted that he worried for himself if I got a hold of a weapon, but more for his unlearned apprentice. I had to remind myself that I was a stranger still, living off their goodwill.

When I asked for something to shave with the Ranger had no disputes with giving me back my small kit. I didn't venture to ask for more than that, and Halt didn't offer me back my knives or arrows. I felt as if the understanding we'd reached had put us on equal footing. I believe that Halt trusted me just as much I trusted him. I wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or offended.

Brushing it aside for later thought, I went to shaping myself back to what I used to be. I'd accumulated a great deal of stubble since the last time I'd shaved, and I looked rather rough. I shaved, and for a long time I sat looking at myself in the glass. It was hard to believe the face that stared back was mine at all.

I'd gone gaunt, dreadfully so. My face was sullen, my cheekbones stood out to make my face hollow. I found myself looking at a pale and sickly man who wore my dark eyes and feathery brown hair. Even my hair had taken on a more lank look to it, the ends flat and listless. I was not at all who I once had been.

I had to wonder to myself, who was I now?

* * *

I fell asleep by the fire, the warmth of the flames caressing my skin better than a blanket. It was a deep and dreamless sleep, one that left me feeling well rested when I came back to wakefulness. I did so slowly, shifting in my chair as I heard voices. They fell silent, and I felt myself start to drift back to sleep.

"Griff?"

I stirred, wishing that the prodding voice would simply leave me alone. Someone shook my shoulder gently. I blinked lazily at them, turning my head away from the light of the fire. When had it gotten so bright?

"Come on," the firm hand was relentless. "There's food on the table."

The talk of food made me realize how hungry I was. My stomach let out a low rumble, urging me to rise. Halt did not wait for me to rise and follow him to the table. I took a moment to let the drowsiness of sleep relinquish it's hold on me before I levered myself to my feet.

Not much to my surprise, Halt and Will had not deigned to wait for me. They'd already settled into the usual routine of mentor and apprentice. A question from the apprentice followed by a sigh and a reply from the mentor.

Tonight's dinner was a beef stew. I knew before I even glanced at the bowl in front of the vacant chair what it was. An intoxicating fragrance preceded the meal, one that put me in mind of Channer. He'd always been very good at cooking, and he'd rather make a soup himself than ride to an inn where food was waiting. It seemed to have rubbed off on me, and even though I was grateful, I felt guilty at settling down to eat a bowl of stew I didn't help cook.

_I'll cook for them another night, _I promised myself. _If they ever trust me enough to let me. _

I ate patiently, savoring the taste as I pondered over what I could make. I knew how to make home cooked bread. I hated beating the dough, but the light and flakey rolls that resulted were very enticing. Maybe even muffins, like the kind mother used to make. The warm and steamy pastry was delicious, split in half and smeared with butter that melted even as one spread it.

"Griff?"

I looked up to find the eyes of both Ranger's on me. I realized with a sudden burst of embarrassment that they'd asked me something. I smiled apologetically at them in a vain effort to be friendly. Warmth surged up my neck.

"Sorry, I was thinking of what we might have for breakfast."

Halt's eyebrows rose at that. "Already thinking of breakfast, and you haven't even finished dinner."

My smile might have widened. I'm not sure if it did any good or not. I pictured myself, as gaunt as I had been in the looking glass with a half hearted smile plastered across my sallow face. Abruptly my mouth fell flat again and I molded my expression to what I hoped was less forward.

"Are you feeling better?"

Halt's question needed no pondering. Did I miss the days of agonizing travel through seemingly endless and changing terrain?

"A lot better, thank you." I think another smile might of curbed my lips, but it was not at all false as before. "I don't miss the bleary days of riding, not compared to clean clothes and food."

Halt made a sound, something like a grunt of agreement. I couldn't help but compare Will's mentor to my own. Channer would have said something comical in reply. I don't believe there was ever a time when silence prevailed at Channer's table, he had always been that outspoken. Halt was quieter, but none the less shrewder I decided. He looked to be older than my mentor had been, but not by too many years. Still, I found him lacking something essential to what a mentor should be. I couldn't sum it up to anything but him not being Channer.

After dinner we sat around the table, mentor and apprentice talking easily. I was silent, listening and pondering to myself. The mug in my hand was warm, accented with the aromatic fragrance of coffee that rose to entice me. I'm not sure if they thought I was being rude by being there, but companionship was something I had often been without. Even if I wasn't part of the conversation, I was at least not excluded.

"How many days had you ridden before we found you?" Halt asked, and I glanced up to find him looking at me. His question sounded genuine, not probing. I realized there had been a lull in the talk before Halt voiced his query.

I frowned and thought for a moment, "I'm not sure. More than just a few days, but certainly not too many." My answer was painfully vague, but it was better than lying to the Ranger.

"Where'd you set out from?" This came from Will, and that too I had to ponder. I remembered the village I had stayed at. I had been there for a time, or so they had told me. When I made the decision to leave they provided what little they could for me, and for that I had been grateful.

"A little village, on the plains. I took Bracken and headed for home before dawn one morning. I was surprised, to find it all gone to ruins."

Halt didn't seem surprised to hear that. "You were in Gorlan?"

I nodded. That much at least I could recall clearly. "I was looking for something, anything, that might be left. I did not find much. It's just tumbled masonry, with nothing left to offer but some shade."

Will's brown eyes were curious as a cat's as he spoke. "What was Gorlan like before?"

A thoughtful smile creased my brow. "It was wonderful. The Baron used to say it was most beautiful when beheld from a distance. Gorlan was certainly something when one could see it from a ways off, rising in the distance as a looming blue monolith draped in moonlight. It was something eerie and enchanting, but what was better was walking the streets among the people themselves. Gorlan was nothing at all like the other fiefs.

"Everything was so different there. In a way it was as if no one acted as they should have, and the cobbled walks were often crowded with exotic vendors who sold things from both the plains and the Mountains. Despite what many believe, there were people bold enough to brave the dangers of the mountains of Rain and Night. With them they brought back tales unheard of and the pelts and teeth off beasts not many have seen."

Will's eyes were round with wonder. I'm sure he'd heard many tales of all that resided in the Mountains of Rain and Night, and was considering what someone might have to do to get a pelt from such a fabled beast.

"Perhaps it's not truly that glorious. The Mountains themselves are not that remarkably. They're desolate, all grey stone and ice, and more often than not the creatures that lurk there come venturing too close for comfort. Men did not always kill them for the adventure of it, but more for the necessity of keeping their sheep from becoming a Wargals dinner."

I noticed with a bit of discomfort that Halt hadn't said anything as I spoke, and I suddenly felt as if I was being observed. The thought sent a shiver of dismay up my spine. I had not like being watched before. My eyes shifted to Halt, to find that he was rising from his chair to put another pot of water to boil. For a moment his gaze brushed mine, and I knew a moment of certain fear and an overwhelming need to be somewhere else.

This could not end like it had before. I had to leave here.

What scared me most about realizing this is that I had no idea where such thoughts stemmed from.

* * *

The healer came to see me again not long after Will had gone to sleep. I myself had been getting ready to spend another night before the hearth, though Halt was still awake, seated at the table with what looked to be letters spread before him. The woman knocked, and at Halt's beck she slipped inside the cabin, carrying in a warm brush of night air and liveliness.

"Ranger," she acknowledged Halt with a nod. Her bright eyes found me and a frown curved her lips. "Oh look, someone washed." There was genuine surprise in her voice. She joined me by the fire, slinging the small healer's satchel from her shoulder to her lap. Audrey sat cross legged and waved an impatient hand at me.

"Come on, off with your shirt. I've been on errands all day, and I've still more to do before I can sleep tonight. Don't make this any longer than it need be."

Had I been more wakeful I might have protested such brisk treatment, but I was tired, and as docile as a trained dog I tugged my shirt over my head as she bade me.

"You clean up nice," Audrey mentioned as she prodded my side.

Before I could be flattered she poked me in the side, "But you're dreadfully thin."

I sighed, a soft affirmation of her words. Audrey was swift a healer as I had ever encountered. Before I could grow impatient at her poking and prodding she was rewrapping the bandages that bound me and bidding me to wait a moment while she fetched Halt.

I'd nodded to her before I recognized the full meaning of her words. Fetch Halt? She'd already risen, and I watched as she took a place at the table across from the bearded Ranger. They conferred for a few minutes, and Audrey's voice rose in annoyance. She gestured at me with a slim hand, but would not look at me.

I felt a sinking feeling as they spoke. Was something wrong with me? I was not entirely sure why they would argue over something like that, and I didn't have the courage to ask for an explanation. Instead I tried to pretend that I hadn't been listening when Audrey reclaimed her place beside me once more.

"He's made me promise not to tell you, but he can't hide it from you forever. I'm not sure how exactly he intends to explain it to you, and I can only hope he doesn't do it rashly."

I wondered if the look on my face conveyed my complete ignorance of her words. If it did she took no notice.

"Believe him when he tells you, Sir Griff," Audrey told me. It scared me, the way her words seemed so ominous. She gathered her things, and without so much as another word to Halt or I one, the healer left.

For a long time I lay with her words ringing in my head. The sleep that had been so close had suddenly fled, leaving me with little more but the rafters to stare at. At some point Halt had doused the candle and gone to bed, and I felt more alone than I ever had before. The hearth fire had crackled down to nothing, and I watched the way the fading light sent long flickering fingers of shadow dancing across the living room.

A hollowness seemed to gap in me, a wide black void that I couldn't fill. I supposed there had once been a time that something had filled the space. I knew with a growing certainty it must've been someone, or some people. I ached to feel whole again, to reach out and know that there was someone I could call friend. Perhaps someone who needed me.

Part of me wished that I could say that Will or even Halt had become something of a friend to me, but Audrey's words brought that hope to a swift end. The healer had spoken of him as though he was keeping something from me, something that she thought important I should know. It seemed as though she too was in on the great secret. It all made me feel like a bird surrounded by hungry cats. I did not like this at all.

I hardened my resolve as I shifted to lay on my side. The dying embers of the fire cast an eerie glow over the floorboards around me. I could feel the crimson light veil my face. I enjoyed the simplicity of the moment as I thought. I felt the blanket chafing gently against my skin, and the cool of the floor beneath me growing warm with my presence.

For the second time that night I came to the same conclusion, but this time I found I had a reason. I had no place here, among the lives of two Ranger's and a healer who did not trust me. They did not need me, nor did I believe that they wanted me around at all, and so I came to my decision.

Suddenly it was blindingly clear to me.

I would leave here.

* * *

**Thoughts on the chapter? I tried to tie the beginning and the ending together, but I'm not sure how I did. Does anyone care to share how they feel about Griff? Is he lacking?**

**Next chapter should be a fun one though. =) What, oh what, will Griff do to get away?**


	8. Flight

Fight, or flight?

It's a dilemma that has stuck in the minds of hundreds, a choice between life and death. Disgrace and honor.

I poured the last pale of water into the large bucket in Halt's cabin, glad to be done with the chore. For a few good days I'd done nothing but rest, trade stories with Will and few words with Halt. Audrey still came by every now and then but never stayed for long and didn't deign to speak to Halt at all.

I found it odd, the silence between them, but didn't question it. Frankly, it wasn't much of my business, or so I hoped. Though I was still convinced the last words they'd exchanged had been about me I didn't feel their stalemate was directed at me.

No, I wasn't the culprit of it, just the reason for it.

Somehow that didn't make me feel much better about it. What had I done to deserve being argued over?

It wasn't relevant. Fight or flight was. I'd been helping Will with his chores, talking all the while, when the thought popped into my head.

_Fight, or flight?_

I didn't know what it meant. There was nothing for me to fight, and nothing for me to run from. So why did it ring in my ears? Burn in my veins?

_Fight. _

_Flight._

"Have you ever been to the Mountains of Rain and Night?"

Will's question brought me back to the present. I nodded and helped him pull up the living room rug. On the verandah we hung the heavy carpet over the porch railing and took turns beating the dust from it. I was too mindful of my side to be any good at it, but I managed to do more help than harm.

"I haven't journeyed there, but I've been very close to them."

I spoke the words with a frown, and thought for a moment of the grey landscape, sharp and jagged. A clearing, barely green. Wargals, spread across the undulating earth.

The scene that painted itself in my mind didn't seem a memory of my own. I was convinced it belonged to someone else. After all, how could it belong to me? I had never been to the mountains of Rain and Night.

As I write this I shake my head in despair. Tangle a hand in my hair and tug at the roots as a voice whispers in my ear.

_Griff, you fool._

* * *

The routine I'd fallen into came to an abrupt end with the dawning of a new day. Instead of Halt setting Will to the mundane task of chores after breakfast the grim Ranger rose from the table and gestured for me to follow him to the hearth.

I exchanged a glance with Will, who shrugged helplessly in reply before collecting the dishes from the table.

Warily, I followed after Halt.

"How's the wound?" He asked.

"Better." I watched him stoke up the fire a little.

"Are you well enough to give riding a try?"

I mulled it over in my head for a moment. I thought of Bracken, who was growing complacent in the little yard that he roamed around in now. I hadn't ridden him since when, the Wargal attack? He could use the exercise.

And me?

Well, I could use a lot of things.

I looked at Halt, the grizzled Ranger and his deep dark eyes. I nodded, a timid dip of my chin.

"Good," he said. But it was hollow. It was good, but not for me. His gaze never left mine as he called to his apprentice.

"Will, help him saddle the horse."

* * *

Before I went out to the stable yard I donned my belt and boots and pulled my cloak around my shoulders. I should have been nervous, with my fate resting on my ability to swing astride a horse. I should have been confident, because riding Bracken was one of the few things that I could do right.

I was nothing I should have been, and everything I should not have.

I felt anxious. Not nervous, not fearful. Tense. I was a dog kept chained, a beast kept caged too long. I didn't understand it, nor did I want to. But as I followed Will to the lean-to beneath the slanted morning sunshine I couldn't shake the feeling that I was a captive.

I was trapped.

By who?

I couldn't say, but he was closer than I ever could have guessed.

* * *

"You ready, friend?"

Bracken pawed at the earth with one foreleg, letting out a snort of hot air in my face. I couldn't hide a smile.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

Halt and Will leaned on the rail, the onlookers to a momentous occasion. It truly hadn't hit me until then. I was going to ride Bracken for the first time in a solid week. It was the longest time I'd ever gone without swinging astride the little horse since our first ride, and I found that I was beginning to forget exactly what it felt like. I couldn't recall what about it I loved so much until I had the reins in my hands, my foot in the stirrup of my worn saddle. _I'm going to ride._

My previous feelings melted away, the tense sensation evaporating the very moment I swung up onto Bracken.

Settled well and steady, I looked to Halt and Will, smiling boyishly like I hadn't in well, I had no idea. Like so many other things, I didn't remember.

We waited, for the twist. A sudden wrench. The explosion of horse beneath me.

It never happened.

Bracken stayed still and I retained my seat. Halt didn't seem impressed, but Will was returning my grin.

"Go on, let him around the ring a few times," the older Ranger instructed.

Happily, we obliged.

I tapped my heels lightly to the back of Bracken's shoulders and the little horse surged forward into an eager trot. We circled the field once, twice, three times, picking up momentum with every step until we were cantering.

Mounting hadn't hurt, but riding tugged lightly at the edges of my wound. I could feel it, but I didn't care.

_I was riding!_

The air ran cool fingers through my hair. The steady lope of Bracken's stride ran in time with my heart, a booming echo to the beat. The horse tossed his head, and I knew that he felt it too.

When Halt waved a hand for us to join him at the fence I only had to twitch the reins to bring Bracken to bear. He came to a stop before the other Ranger's, slowing up to a walk with ease. The horse regarded them with one bright eye and a cheery snort.

"He's yours," was the first remark from Halt. It was fuel to the elated grin on my face. His next words were the smothering sand to that fire.

"I think it's time you met the baron."

* * *

I was anxious.

It was nowhere near as consuming as before, and I found it surprisingly bearable.

I was worried that facing the baron might spell an end to me. I felt like I should be wary of him. In my mind he was a looming figure that paced and brooded.

A memory tugged at my mind, but I pushed it away. Now was not the time.

It didn't take Halt long to saddle his mount and name a handful of chores for Will to occupy himself with while we were gone.

With that, the Ranger and I set off in silence with him leading the way. We ambled along at a slow trot, making our way up a path hemmed in close on both sides with trees.

"What will the baron want?" I ventured to ask, trailing a few steps shy of Halt's Abelard.

"To see you, maybe ask you a few questions."

The reply did little to settle my nerves. I wished I had my long bow with me, and looked longingly at the one Halt wore. My hands itched to feel the familiar hilt of my saxe knife at my hip.

I will be the first one to admit that I have a God given talent of cowardice, but I am capable. What I lack is not the physical skill or ability. Channer had drilled all of those aspects of being a Ranger into to me, had set me to practicing day after day before a target until I was impeccable with a bow.

But there's a catch.

You can't teach a boy bravery. No amount of practice will make a man a hero. There was no lesson, no hidden secret to teach someone how to be a King's Ranger. I, of all people, knew this. I was the unfortunate living proof of that fact. Being a Ranger took something else. A natural born talent.

A talent that I didn't have and never would.

As we rode through the gates of Redmont castle I wished again for the familiar smooth wood of my bow beneath my fingers. I couldn't call myself a Ranger like Halt. Couldn't even compare myself to his fledging of an apprentice.

I wasn't a Ranger. Not like them.

But I ached for the longbow and knives that would claim otherwise. I clung to my cloak that deemed me something I wasn't.

I'd done this before. Had been doing it all my life. I hid behind all the things that people believed made a man. I stood by and let them believe that I was another one of the mystic figures that roamed the lands.

Why?

No matter how many times I asked myself the question I came to same bleak answer. The one dour conclusion that rang only too true.

I was too scared of them knowing what Ranger Griffin wasn't.

I was terrified of them knowing who Ranger Griffin was.

* * *

We didn't unsaddle the horses, but left them waiting with reins trailing at the base of the baron's tower.

The guard standing watch by the archway nodded at Halt and let us pass, giving me a curious look. He said nothing and Halt didn't pay him any more attention than that.

I followed the grim Ranger up the winding concrete stairs, grunting a little at the exertion. Riding was one thing, climbing stairs was another.

And oh how many stairs there were.

I was thankful for the pause Halt allowed when we came to a large wooden door that lay cracked slightly. He gave me a moment to catch my breath, and I wiped away the moisture I could feel at my forehead.

I'm sure there was still a paltry tint to my face when I nodded at Halt and he slipped inside the baron's office, but I followed him anyways.

We entered into a wide oval room with the same stone walls as the rest of the castle and a curtained off area on one side. A large oak desk dominated the space with a blanket of papers topping it.

"Halt?"

The baron was not what I expected. He was massive compared to the spindly little being I'd imagined, both heavier and broader than my baron.

Not to mention myself.

He'd looked up from the document before him, a curious look crossing his face. His gaze switched between us steadily. First to Halt, then to me and back again.

"My lord," came the Ranger's easy response. He made a differing gesture to me and understanding dawned in the baron's eyes. I took an involuntary step back.

"Ah, this is him! Ranger Griffin is it?"

I dipped a shallow nod. "Y-yes."

"Come forward a little, could you?"

I inched towards the desk hesitantly. My eyes found the floor. His found a would-be Ranger.

"I can't say you look very familiar, but you do have that look of a Ranger about you."

I glanced up to meet his gaze, a little encouraged that my façade was working. I wore the cloak and the oakleaf, and that seemed to be enough for the baron. He rubbed at his beard, brow furrowed in thought.

"A little thin though. Has Halt been starving you?"

I shook my head and cleared my throat to speak, "He guards the coffee jealously but doesn't mind sharing the soup."

He chuckled heartily. I shied back.

"Halt says you were a little out of it when he ran into you. I trust you're feeling better?"

I nodded, but felt a little dishonest to agree with the notion that I'd run into anyone or anything but the ground. I certainly hadn't been standing when they'd found me.

"Good, good." He nodded several times to himself, briefly content. "It's been fifteen years," Arald ventured. "What brings you around now?"

I resisted the urge to nod my head again. I forced the words out.

"I don't know."

A frown touched the baron's face. I realized too late that it was the wrong answer. An alarming thought, but it was lost on me. I had no other answer to give. I didn't remember. Not even enough to form a guess from the remnants of my memory.

"You don't remember?"

"Only bits and pieces."

"Such as?" The baron gestured for me to go on and my gaze rapidly found the floor. How must I look, standing before this man claiming to have forgotten everything? It wasn't even feasible to me. How could he possibly believe any of what I was telling him?

"I remember the Kalkara and Channer on the rocky plains," I murmured. I made myself think back to that night. The last night I'd seen my mentor. The cool air. The long grass. The earsplitting roars. The dying screams.

"I remember walking."

More grass, blue sky. The sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. The feel of the wind whipping up around us.

_Us. _

I clenched my eyes shut. _Who else? Who else was there?_

I didn't know. Not anymore.

I spoke aloud what little I knew.

"I don't know why I came here. I didn't mean to—at least, I don't think I did. I had to leave, so I did. I went home to Gorlan, and there were the Kalkara and the Wargals after that. The rest is… Not there."

A skeptical look had firmed itself on Arald's face, and I waited in terror for what would happen next.

"I can see where there might be a little trouble involved with that," was the slow reply.

But he didn't see it. He didn't understand it. I could tell, by the careful tone he used and the way he furrowed his brow in thought. He didn't believe me. He was a knight, a man trained with strategy and logic. What I said could not be plausible.

"It's unfortunate," he went on. "Are you sure there is nothing else you remember?"

I shook my head mutely. Nothing else that made enough sense to matter, anyways.

"Nothing about Dirk Reacher?"

This, I am proud to say, I remembered. Why hadn't I thought of Dirk?

"I do, actually," I spoke up quickly, warm with an eagerness. Finally, something I had an answer to. Something I could recall. "He was a friend. He was going to take… Take care of Bracken."

Yes, that was it.

"Who?"

"My horse. After I died."

That warm feeling I'd been enjoying turned to ice at the baron's withering look, but it passed soon enough, replaced instead by a feeling so volatile it was dangerous.

"Griff?"

I stumbled on nothing as the world swirled. I was feeling trapped again, a cat backed into a corner.

_Fight, or flight?_

Just when I thought I would faint I felt Halt's hand on my shoulder. A voice rang in my head, screaming at me.

_Flight!_

I took it. I rounded violently on Halt, ripping his hand away from me and bolting on swaying feet for the door.

It was a trap, a trick. It was all to get me where they wanted. All they would need was another moment, maybe two, and then they would have me. They'd call the guards, have me chained and thrown into a dungeon. Lock me away for now. Question me soon. Kill me later. Why hadn't I seen it all before?

I flew down the stairs, my thoughts racing with my unsteady legs. My side let out a pang of warning, but I didn't care. I had to get away. _Now. _

"Griff!"

I heard Halt behind me, the sound of steps following after me. No, no, no. I had to get away. I had to.

I burst out into the morning light, nearly colliding with a woman passing by.

"Sir Griff—" I heard Audrey protest in my wake. But I was already past her. I snagged hold of Bracken's reins as I scrambled up into the saddle.

They would close the gates, I knew they would. Any moment now. It was why it had been so much harder before. They had been ready for it. Had expected it.

But not now, no.

I put heels to Bracken just as Halt collided with Audrey somewhere behind me. I heard her gasp, caught the words she threw at the Ranger.

"You didn't tell him!"

And I was gone. Bracken sprang forward into an easy lope, hooves ringing on the cobbles. We thundered through the gate, drummed across the bridge.

My cloak flowed out behind me, cracking like a whip in the wake of the wind. My side stung, a tug of pain to remind me I was still living. My mind whirled unnaturally, filled with senseless thoughts that came from a different time.

We ran, far into the forest, following old paths and rutted tracks. Running until Bracken chose to slow. Running until I realized the fault of fleeing the castle.

I knew, with sudden clarity, my mistake.

I had already done this before.

* * *

**It's been a long while since I updated but I am proud to say that I am getting back into the hang of things. Expect many more to follow this one. =)**

**Reviews, as always, are well appreciated. =)**

**This chapter might be a little confusing, but everything will come together in the next one. I promise. All of Griff's odd thoughts will suddenly make sense. =)**


	9. Last Time

We ran. Hurtling beneath the trees. Haring into the night. I had let go of the reins, and they slapped loosely against the saddle. My bare hands rested against Bracken's neck, my boots tight against the horse's sides. It was a breakneck pace. Reckless and dangerous. We rode wild and free, and I let him pick our way through the forest, never urging him one way or the other. Never nudging him faster.

Bracken is no fool horse. He is sensible. We were moving too fast for reason, and he knew it. We both did. He could have slowed and I wouldn't have stopped him. But he didn't, and I put my faith in his decision.

I think my horse ran because I needed it. I needed the speed, the rush, the senseless rhythm of hooves pounding earth. The tug of motion against the edges of my wound, pulling until my tunic began to dampen. I needed the sensation of our hearts slamming together in time.

And I think Bracken knew. He raced through the dark, letting the world roar past our ears. I needed to feel _alive. _

He knew.

He understood.

So we ran.

* * *

I don't know when Bracken started to slow, only that we did. Shortly after, he stopped completely. I slid from his back, my feet hitting the soft dirt with a muted thud. It seemed too quiet without the wind whipping around us.

Bracken had found a nice little creek, and I plopped down beside the water. My boots mired themselves in the muddy bank.

I watched my horse drop his head to the water to drink, sucking up great mouthfuls in a noisy manner.

"You're a good horse."

I don't know why I said it, other than feeling a need to speak the truth. So many things in my life were falling apart, slipping out of my hands and my control. But Bracken was here. And he was taking care of the sorry excuse of a man that was me.

"You're a very, very good horse."

Bracken snorted and stomped in the shallow stream. He knew this. I was beginning to see that he knew a lot of things.

I stared at him, heart still pounding from the run. It never occurred to me then that wallowing in a pool of my own self pity was a waste of time. That I could have been putting distance between my horse and I and the men that were following us.

It never even crossed my mind that they would come for me, for us. And so there we stayed.

* * *

Bracken heard the rain before I did. His ears flicked on his head, and I looked up at the clouds that pressed themselves down on us. They enveloped the last of the moon's light, turning the world so, so dark.

First one drop, then two, a torrent. I hadn't realized until then that I was too warm, hot with fever. The drops seemed to sizzle when they hit my skin and I welcomed the cool relief.

I felt rather than saw Bracken snuff at the downpour and move to stand next to me. He leaned over, and the rain stopped running down my face. I draped myself around the legs of my sturdy horse, and I thought.

_You've done this before._

The thought popped into my head without prompting, lingering like smoke with no wind to blow it away.

I thought of everything that I would give to get my memory back, and I laughed aloud. I had nothing to my name—I didn't even have a _name. _Halt wasn't sure of who I was, and Baron Arald had been even less believing. What made me so sure I was Griffin at all?

"What hasn't been taken?" I asked the night. I glared up at what little I could make out of the rain and clouds beyond. Looking back I can imagine myself as a stark form pressed close to Bracken, my eyes glaring, lips twisted into a snarl.

Only I've never been so fierce.

The reality of me that night was a slumped huddle. Limbs weak, eye hopeless, mouth one flat line of despair. I'm fairly certain that in the cold of the wind and rain and the clutch of fever that I shook.

I was as depressing as they come, and I knew it. Who didn't?

It was this thought that brought me staggering to my feet, one hand flying to catch hold of my saddle. I clapped my hand onto the pommel, slick with rain, and something wonderful and terrifying happened.

I remembered.

* * *

_I've done this before._

That thought rang clear in my head, one stab of clarity among the fog of my mind. If I hadn't been trembling before I was trembling now.

I had run away from Halt and the Baron and Redmont, but it wasn't the first time.

A while ago, I had run away from Channer and my Baron and Gorlan.

I can see it now.

Out the door of Morgarath's office. Down the steps of his keep. Into a courtyard full of his guards. Into the night that would hide me.

That much I can remember now, and there's something else I recall too.

Last time, I didn't get away.

* * *

**I haven't updated in forever, and this is kind of a short little tidbit. Read and review. Let me know what you think so far. =)**


	10. All Over Me

It didn't all come back at once, if that's what you're thinking. My memory was too fractured, my mind too weak, my body too unsound, for everything to come crashing back into my head at once. Had I known the truth of my life and its entirety just then—what had happened to me in the past, what I had to do about it now—it's probable my poor heart would have given out.

Had it done so, the men who'd been sent after me would have found my pale corpse instead of the fever sick maniac they did find.

* * *

I heard them before I saw them. They were the sound of hooves pounding wetly against the drenched earth, and twigs and branches snapping as they were crushed beneath horses or broken aside by mounted men.

I was leaning against Bracken's side, one hand still grasping the pommel tightly. My mind that had whirled away from me so violently was awfully slow coming back. So slow in fact that it wasn't until the men were breaching the edge of the clearing that I truly became aware of myself, my surroundings, and my impossible predicament.

I struggled into the saddle with Bracken moving beneath me before I could signal him to. Always one step ahead, my horse, but one step wasn't enough.

For a while we ran, racing through the damp night with the torchlight brightening the path ahead of us and casting a misshapen shadow of Bracken and myself across the earth.

I want to believe that we ran to get away from the riders chasing us, but that's not true. I was running away from the truth. I didn't want to believe what I'd remembered. I ran away from the memory and the truth the way you run after walking through a web spun by a spider.

I ran to get away from it all, but it doesn't matter how fast you move or how far you travel, some threads of the web will always cling to you.

The memory did the same, and still to this day it's stuck all over me like a bad smell.

* * *

They caught us.

One minute I'm on Bracken's back and they're just a chorus of shouts and a cacophony of hoof beats somewhere behind us. I keep telling myself they're never going to be able to catch us, that no one can catch a Ranger's horse.

I'm not lying to myself. In his prime Bracken could have easily outrun just about anything on four legs with or without a disoriented rider on his back. These horses are like diamonds. Nothing can break them or match them but one of their own. I kept telling myself this, I kept telling myself there was no need to worry. But I overlooked one small detail about my pursuers.

They had a diamond named Abelard.

They catch us.

* * *

There was nothing gentle about it. They bolted up alongside us in the dark and seized Bracken by the bridle. We slowed, and before I could so much as think about lashing out at Halt someone seized me.

Everything happened in the glare of their torchlight.

They grabbed a handful of my cloak and collar and jerked me back off the saddle. My feet popped out of the stirrups, and they dragged me sideways off Bracken's back.

When they let go of me I fell from the still moving horses onto the ground that was locked in place. I tumbled across rock and roots and came to a rest with my breath hissing between my teeth. I'd landed wounded side first, and I couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe.

I lay there panting to no avail as riders came up all around me, their torches throwing garish shadows into the night around us. They dismounted and two of them are picking me up when the torchlight finally washes across my face. They look at me, and I'm suddenly so sure they can see the truth written in the reflection of those flames in my eyes. I start shouting with all the air I have left.

"It wasn't me!"

I keep yelling past the pain in my chest, past the agony brimming in every bone in my body. They pull my arms behind my back.

"I didn't do it!"

I twist and writhe, and someone plants a knee in the small of my back and settles their weight on top of me. They hold me down.

"I didn't kill him!"

They pin me down and they tie me up. They put me on a horse that isn't mine with someone who isn't anyone I know.

And all the while I scream.

"I'm not a traitor!"

But I'm screaming lies.

* * *

**It's been awhile but this story is still in progress. It hasn't been forgotten or abandoned, I promise! As always reviews are greatly appreciated. Let me know how this story is doing and if their is anything I can change or do differently to make Griff's story better. =)**


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